


let me twine mine rope about that body

by violaceum_vitellina_viridis



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Bottom Lambert (The Witcher), Come Eating, Come Marking, Dirty Talk, Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Enthusiastic Consent, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Felching, Implied Witchersexual Jaskier, Kissing, Lambert loves it though, M/M, Mild Humiliation, Nicknames, Objectification, Oral Sex, Riding, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Sex Toys, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Sub Lambert (The Witcher), Switching, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Top Lambert (The Witcher), Very Very Mild, no beta we die like stregobor fucking should have
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26214382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violaceum_vitellina_viridis/pseuds/violaceum_vitellina_viridis
Summary: It isn’t very often that Jaskier and Lambert get the kind of time and privacy to do something like this.Lambert wants, and Jaskier gives.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 50
Kudos: 200
Collections: Blame Kate For This Fic





	let me twine mine rope about that body

**Author's Note:**

> kate asked for porn. i was possessed by the idea, and thus, kate gets porn. robin also gets a shout out because the DP was put in entirely for her :D
> 
> absolutely no editing done because i am Lazy
> 
> also there is not a single line break in this, who _am_ i,,,

It isn’t very often that Jaskier and Lambert get the kind of time and privacy to do something like this.

Or, well – privacy is a bit of a misnomer, really. More accurately, it’s not very often that Lambert feels comfortable and, well, _safe_ enough to do this, even in the keep. But it’s been a good few weeks, and the snows have been heavy enough to keep them inside most of the time, but not enough to worry anyone about repairs or avalanches. Vesemir is out hunting, and Geralt and Eskel are in one of the larger, cleared rooms, sparring.

And Lambert was rather clearly _wanting,_ when Jaskier kissed him this morning.

The ropes are soft in his hands, silk and cotton, woven tight and stronger than they seem, though these aren’t the ropes Jaskier usually uses with Lambert. No, he usually uses these with Geralt, because they’re soft enough on his sensitive skin that they don’t make him uncomfortable. Lambert prefers rougher rope, the type that leaves burns in its wake no matter how still he stays or how loose he’s tied.

But today is different. _Whatever you want,_ Lambert had said when Jaskier asked what he needed, _just want to be yours_. Which means that Jaskier gets to call _all_ of the shots, today, and one of them is using this rope on Lambert instead of the usual hemp.

Jaskier had discussed this with Lambert before, of course, made sure that the Witcher was as content with his ideas as he was. He hadn’t been surprised to find that Lambert was just as on board as Jaskier was, maybe even _more_ on board.

“How’s that?” Jaskier asks as he finishes the first real knot. It’s mostly decorative, a little looping tie around Lambert’s chest, but it will serve as an anchor for the rest of the rope.

Lambert flexes his chest and sighs. “Good,” he replies, and his voice is already low and rough. Jaskier smiles and presses a soft, chaste kiss to his temple before continuing with the rope. A few more loops around Lambert’s chest, before he starts on his arms. Lambert adjusts as needed, as directed, all without a word. Jaskier listens carefully to his breathing and is pleased to find it slowing, going deeper as Lambert settles into the scene.

When he finishes, both of Lambert’s arms are wrapped but not restrained, not yet. He shifts and moves to do the same to the Witcher’s legs. The first bunch of rope is always decorative, meant to make Lambert feel held without restraining him, and the second set is restraints – _if_ they’re restraining him.

Sometimes, he just wants the rope to be around him, but be free to move. Today isn’t one of those days, though, so when the ropes are secure around Lambert’s legs, Jaskier grabs another set.

“Where do you want me?” Lambert asks, and his voice is still low and rough, words slow. Jaskier grins and kisses his temple again.

“On your back, feet toward the headboard, head on the edge,” Jaskier answers. “I’ll do the rest.”

“Okay,” Lambert murmurs, and quickly moves to settle as directed. Jaskier lets him get comfortable, then goes to the head of the bed to start securing his legs. He pulls them apart and bends Lambert’s knees, sparing a little rope to tie him so he can’t unbend them, and then takes the end of the length and knots it to the bed itself. Lambert pulls at the rope a little, testing the hold and his range of motion, and sighs happily.

Jaskier traces his skin for a moment, feeling the rough hair caught under the soft rope. “Alright?” he asks. He knows, but Lambert still struggles with verbalizing his needs sometimes, so he always asks.

“Yes,” Lambert answers. “Thank you.”

“Of course, darling,” Jaskier says immediately, bending to kiss the top of Lambert’s knee. Lambert huffs, not exactly a chuckle but close, and his leg lists toward Jaskier. “Arms at your sides.”

Lambert shifts his arms down until they’re resting at his sides, hands splayed palm-down next to his hips. Jaskier carefully winds more rope around and through the decorative pieces, until Lambert’s arms are trapped to his sides from armpit to elbow. He can bend his elbow up, but other than that, his range of motion is entirely cut off. The Witcher tugs at these bonds and makes a soft, sharp noise.

Jaskier pauses, hand on Lambert’s chest. “Lambert,” he says softly. “Is that okay?”

The Witcher takes a deep breath. “…yeah.”

“What’s your word?”

Lambert swallows. “Vizima.”

“Good boy,” Jaskier murmurs. “And if you can’t speak?”

Lambert holds a hand up and snaps twice, loud and clear with a small pause between the snaps. Jaskier smiles.

“Thank you, Lambert,” he says, petting over Lambert’s chest and the ropes that criss-cross it. “Feeling okay?”

“Yes,” Lambert nods. “Want – kiss me?”

Jaskier’s smile turns into a grin. “Of course.”

He climbs on to the bed and straddles Lambert’s stomach. The Witcher’s hands rest easily on his thighs – that was why he left his elbows free – and Jaskier leans over him for the kiss. Lambert sighs easily into it, any remaining tension flooding out of him instantly. Jaskier reaches up and pets through his hair, his other hand resting on Lambert’s chest, fingers framing a nipple inside the ropes that frame it as well.

The kiss is soft but wet and deep, all tongues and spit. Lambert keeps making quiet, delicious noises into Jaskier’s mouth, and Jaskier can’t help but prolong the kiss, until he’s forced to pull back to gasp in air. Lambert looks up at him almost dazed, and Jaskier flicks his nipple just to watch his face twist with the sudden spark of pleasure and pain.

“Beautiful,” Jaskier murmurs, shifting his hand so he can pinch at that same nipple, gentle at first until Lambert makes a soft, desperate sound and then hard. “Look at you, little wolf, so pretty.”

Lambert jerks at that nickname, eyes slamming shut as he throws his head back. The nickname itself is from Eskel, but they all tend to call him that in affectionate moments, or during sex. He usually rolls his eyes and mutters about it, but they all know how much he actually enjoys it, how much it makes him feel like part of the pack.

Jaskier feels the way Lambert’s cock twitches, the wet head tapping against his ass. He shifts back a little, widening his stance so he can slot Lambert’s prick between his cheeks. Lambert groans and his fingers dig bruise-tight into Jaskier thighs, but otherwise he doesn’t move, even though with his legs bent he has the leverage.

“So _good,_ Lambert,” Jaskier coos, rolling his hips slowly. He drags both hands down Lambert’s chest, to his ribs, and plucks at the ropes, fingertips tickling across the exposed skin. He watches as Lambert sucks in a breath, ribs going defined and then disappearing again when he lets it out on a quiet moan. “Gods, you’re _perfect._ I want to ride you.”

“ _Please,_ ” Lambert gasps, eyes flying open. His pupils are nearly round, blown wide with want, and Jaskier grins down at him. “Please, Jaskier.”

“You want that?” Jaskier asks, a tease as he keeps rolling his hips. “Want me to ride you? All tied up like this, you’re basically like a toy – can just take my pleasure from you, can’t I?”

“ _Yes,_ yes, Jaskier, please – use me, just want to be _yours,_ ” Lambert pleads, half-breathless, and Jaskier can’t resist leaning down to kiss him again. He grinds his hips again, back against Lambert’s cock and forward to feel the ropes and Lambert’s skin against his own, and Lambert whimpers against his lips. Jaskier sucks on the Witcher’s bottom lip until he can feel it swelling, then lets go and leans back up.

Lambert licks over his lip, not subtly, and Jaskier smirks.

“Be right back,” he says, and climbs off of Lambert and off the bed, as well. Lambert makes a bereft sound, but doesn’t say anything, and when Jaskier looks back at him, he’s relaxed, his head tipped back and eyes closed. “Such a good boy, little wolf, being patient for me.”

He grabs the oil as well as the new toy he’d brought this winter specifically for Lambert, then returns to the bed. He doesn’t straddle Lambert immediately, though, instead kneeling to the side.

Lambert turns his head and makes a questioning noise. Jaskier just smirks at him again.

“You’ll see,” he says cryptically. “Close your eyes.”

Lambert huffs, but does as he’s told, eyes sliding closed. Jaskier knows it’ll just heighten his other senses, but that’s almost half of the fun. The Witcher will be able to hear the sound of him unsnapping the toy, and the slick sound as he readies it, as well. Never mind what having his eyes closed will do to his sense of touch.

“Deep breath,” Jaskier orders, and Lambert sucks in a slow breath that expands his chest to its limit. As he starts to exhale, Jaskier presses the tapered end of the toy to his hole, and slides it in. It’s thin and short, not much more than two of Jaskier’s fingers, and he’s seen Lambert take things bigger than this _dry,_ so he’s not worried about hurting him. He’s still careful, though, and takes a few minutes to push the toy inside, rocking it slightly.

Lambert whines, hips jerking just a little. Jaskier chuckles, and once the toy is settled, sets to wrapping the other half back up around Lambert’s balls and cock. At that sensation, Lambert growls softly, but he doesn’t safeword or complain, so Jaskier just gives him a slow, teasing stroke to make him whine again.

“Jaskier,” Lambert pants.

“Yes?” Jaskier asks, cheeky.

“ _Please._ ”

“Patience, little wolf,” Jaskier says. “I’m running this show, remember?” He puts a bit of steel behind the last part, and he knows Lambert can hear it because he tenses, just a bit.

“Yes,” he replies, low. “Sorry.”

Jaskier reaches out and pets his hair. “Nothing to be sorry for, love,” he says. “But watch yourself, hm?”

Lambert nods, then pushes his head into Jaskier’s touch. “I will.”

“Good boy,” Jaskier praises. “Now….” He shuffles a little further up on the bed and then straddles Lambert’s shoulders. His cock rests against the Witcher’s throat, and they both groan; Jaskier at the sight, Lambert at the feeling. “I think I want you to get me off, first, before I ride that perfect cock. What do you say?”

“ _Please,_ Jaskier, anything, want to make you feel good,” Lambert says, all in a rush. “ _Please._ ”

“Really, it’s not just your cock that’s perfect,” Jaskier grins, and shifts so he can tap the tip of his cock against Lambert’s lower lip. “Look at you, little wolf. So pretty and so _good._ ”

Lambert whimpers and opens his mouth, trying to get his lips around the head of Jaskier’s cock while Jaskier holds it just out of his reach. He shudders when Lambert gets a little flicker of tongue in, again when the very tip of Lambert’s tongue digs into his slit. The Witcher moans like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“Gods,” Jaskier pants. “That’s such a nice sight.” He shifts and pushes the head of his cock into Lambert’s mouth, and the Witcher takes it in easily, _eagerly,_ moaning quietly as he sucks. Jaskier shudders again and pushes a little more, and Lambert just gives that same muffled moan and flickers his tongue, eyes wide as he looks up at Jaskier.

“Fucking _perfect,_ ” Jaskier says, half-snarl, and gives a little thrust. Lambert chokes but doesn’t snap, just sucks hard around Jaskier’s cock, swallowing reflexively. Jaskier whines, pulling back to let the Witcher breathe for a second before he thrusts forward again, a little deeper this time.

Lambert is ready, now, and accepts the intrusion easily, eyes rolling as his throat spasms lightly around the head. Jaskier groans and tangles a hand in the Witcher’s hair, tugging gently, more of a reminder than any sort of direction. Lambert makes a muffled noise that vibrates all the way up to the top of Jaskier’s spine and he moans back.

“Gods, Lambert, _yes,_ ” he murmurs, pulling back until the head of him is just barely inside Lambert’s lips. “Want to fuck your face, little wolf, is that alright?”

Lambert whines and nods. “Yes,” he mumbles, slurred a little around the head of Jaskier’s cock. “Yes, please.”

“ _Shit._ ” Jaskier hisses and grips tightly around the base of his cock. He doesn’t want to come until Lambert’s ruined, teary and choking on him. “Good boy. Gonna come down your throat, little wolf, then make you eat me out.”

Lambert’s eyes go somehow _wider,_ and he makes an absolutely desperate noise. “Yes, yes, please, Jaskier, want it.”

Jaskier smirks and cuts off the rest of the Witcher’s pleading with the head of his cock. “Of course you do, little wolf. The perfect little slut for me, aren’t you? You’re going to make me feel so good, let me use you until I’m satisfied. That right?”

He pulls back for just long enough to let Lambert gasp out a rough, desperate, “ _Yes, please,_ ” before he shoves back in, threatening Lambert’s throat. Lambert’s eyes roll again, already starting to water.

“Fuck, you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” Jaskier hisses, starting to rock in and out, slow but going deeper and deeper with each push, until Lambert is choking on him. There’s no snapping, so Jaskier keeps going, making sure to pull out all he way every handful of thrusts to let the Witcher breathe. “Should put you on your knees and make you keep it warm one of these days, just fuck your throat each time I get hard. Make you swallow me down, clean me off, then keep it in your mouth until I’m ready again.”

Lambert’s eyes open wide and there’s a clear plea in them as he whimpers desperately around the movement of Jaskier’s cock.

“Oh, you like that idea?” Jaskier asks, smirking. “Want to be a toy more often?”

Lambert lifts his head a little, enough to take Jaskier down just a bit deeper, and moans wantonly around the intrusion. Jaskier figures that’s answer enough and groans, tugging at Lambert’s hair again.

“Such a nice mouth,” he rambles. “Such a good cocksucker. Gonna make me come, _fuck._ ” He moves a little faster, and there’s still no snapping. Instead, Lambert is making soft, desperate noises around him, little whines and moans when he gets breath and then just muffled noise when his throat is full of Jaskier’s cock. “ _Gods,_ Lambert, _fuck._ So fucking good, perfect little wolf for me – for us – _fuck._ ”

It’s quick, but that’s fine. He’s always been able to go at least twice in a night, and he’ll have time to cool down and work back up while Lambert eats him out. Besides, he can tell Lambert is desperate for it, eyes all wide and blurry with tears as he moans and gags around Jaskier’s cock with each thrust. He lets lambert take a breath and then shoves in, in, until he’s as deep as he can get in this position, and then he’s coming, blind with pleasure for a moment as Lambert’s throat constricts around him in rapid-fire swallowing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he’s mumbling when he starts to come down, listing a little to the side as his cock slips from Lambert’s mouth, leaving a little trail of saliva and cum against the corner of the Witcher’s lip. Lambert just moans softly and licks it up before swallowing again. “ _Lambert,_ ” Jaskier groans, and shifts back so he can lean down and kiss the Witcher.

Lambert kisses back desperately, if clumsily, lips swollen and hot and fumbling under Jaskier’s. Jaskier doesn’t mind a bit, kissing him deeply and chasing the taste of himself on the back of Lambert’s tongue.

“Fuck,” Jaskier repeats when the kiss breaks. He presses his forehead to Lambert’s for a moment, bringing a hand up to pet at the Witcher’s throat. “So good for me, _such_ a good boy, little wolf.”

“ _Jaskier,_ ” Lambert whines, and Jaskier can feel his hips jerk. Jaskier grins and presses a chaste kiss to his temple, then sits up to look over him more fully.

“Not quite yet,” he says. “Not done with that mouth of yours. Feeling okay?”

“ _Yes,_ yes,” Lambert pants. “Want more.”

“Of course you do,” Jaskier coos. “You’re _perfect._ ”

He moves his hand from Lambert’s throat to his mouth, thumbing over his bottom lip and feeling the heat of it. Lambert whimpers and drops his mouth open again, tongue stretched out to flick at the pad of Jaskier’s thumb. Jaskier hooks the first knuckle of it over Lambert’s teeth, pulling his mouth further open, and the Witcher just gasps and relaxes his jaw against the pressure. Jaskier leans forward again and licks over Lambert’s top lip, against his tongue, still holding his mouth open, and Lambert makes a weak sound, somewhere between a moan and a whimper.

“Love you, little wolf,” Jaskier murmurs, and takes his thumb away just to nibble at Lambert’s bottom lip. “Love you, and your smart mouth, and that perfect cock. Love how you let me use you.”

“ _Jaskier,_ ” Lambert whimpers, and his hips jerk again. Jaskier knows he probably would have come, without that nice little toy. He smirks and leaves Lambert’s mouth with one last suck at his lip.

“Be good and get me nice and wet, Lambert,” he orders, and shuffles up to sit on Lambert’s face. Lambert doesn’t even close his mouth, just moans, sound slurred by the way his tongue is nearly hanging out past his lips. “Get me hard again.”

Lambert makes a low, rumbling sound of assent, and Jaskier shifts even further forward, tipping his hips a little. The first touch of Lambert’s tongue nearly burns, the heat of Lambert’s mouth somehow more than the pulsing heat Jaskier is already feeling there.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” he groans, leaning forward to grasp at the edge of the bed. “Yes, Lambert, _yes._ ”

There’s no hesitation in Lambert’s movements at all, just immediate desperation, and Jaskier groans under the onslaught. All of his Witchers had unfairly dexterous tongues, but Lambert _specifically_ has a special talent with his, and in mere minutes Jaskier is reduced to sweating and panting, struggling to hold himself up. His cock is only halfway with the program, but it’ll get there, he knows.

“Gods, _fuck,_ Lambert, so fucking _good,_ just like that,” he babbles, hips rolling against the pressure of Lambert’s tongue as it sweeps from his hole to his taint and then back. Lambert growls softly, the vibration making Jaskier tremble, and then he’s pointing his tongue and shoving _inside._ Jaskier wails, overcome with pleasure for a split second. “ _Fuck!_ ”

Lambert doesn’t stop, not that Jaskier wants him to. Instead he just wriggles his tongue, until its as deep as he can get it – deeper than should be possible, actually, _fucking_ mutations – and Jaskier shudders so hard the bedframe creaks. He shoves his hips back, searching for – something, anything, and Lambert growls again.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Jaskier clenches down on Lambert’s tongue just as the Witcher starts to move it again, just wriggling against his walls at first and then thrusting, in and out, until Jaskier feels like his legs have turned to jelly and he’s fully hard again, cock throbbing where it rests over the top of Lambert’s face. “Gods, Lambert, so fucking _good,_ that tongue should be _illegal._ ”

He revels in the pleasure for another few minutes, just letting Lambert take his fill, until he’s sloppy wet and needs _more._

It takes a bit of effort, but he manages to shuffle back, until he’s sitting on Lambert’s ribs and belly instead of his face. Lambert is heaving, taking in air like he’d forgotten to breathe while he was buried in Jaskier’s ass – probably had, the hedonist – and Jaskier fumbles and reaches to the side to grab the oil he abandoned. He finds it after a moment of fishing, and uncorks it to spill a measure over his fingers. After it’s recorked, he throws it back to the sheets to be lost and found again later, then shifts up and reaches back to press his slick fingers against his hole. He’s a little open from Lambert’s tongue, and the realization of that makes him groan.

Lambert makes a matching sound, still panting, and Jaskier can’t help but look him right in the eye as he slowly sinks two fingers inside himself. It takes a lot of effort to _keep_ that eye contact, pleasure searing through his blood making him want to toss his head back and wail, but he trembles and manages.

He channels the energy into talking, rambling out everything and anything that’s in his head. “Fuck, Lambert, you got me so open with just your tongue, fucking _perfect._ Can’t wait to sit on your cock, ride you until I come. Maybe I’ll make you wait until I’m hard again so I can fuck you, would you like that?”

Lambert makes a garbled, wanting noise, words apparently too complicated at this point. Jaskier pants and finds he nearly agrees, wanting nothing more than to speed through opening himself up so he can get Lambert’s cock inside him.

Jaskier doesn’t play favorites, not really, but Lambert’s tongue isn’t the only feature of his that does incredible things in bed.

“Fuck, fuck,” Jaskier finally has to give in and close his eyes when he shoves a third finger inside, thighs trembling with the stretch and burn of it. “Gods, want you so bad, little wolf. Always fill me up so good.”

“ _Jaskier,”_ Lambert gasps, slurred. His hips jerk, the head of his cock smearing a line of wetness over Jaskier’s wrist. “ _Please._ ”

“Almost,” Jaskier groans. “Just – fucking – _gods._ ” He loses his train of thought for a moment as he spreads his fingers out inside himself, the burn trailing all the way up his spine to make his head spin. “ _Lambert._ ”

He gives himself a handful more minutes to adjust to three fingers before his impatience wins out and he grasps for the oil again. He nearly fumbles it, but pays no mind, just uncorking it and pouring some into his palm, then recorking it and really forgetting where it lands this time.

The first stroke of the oil over Lambert’s cock makes him whine, and the second makes him keen. Jaskier laughs, breathless, but doesn’t tease, just shuffling back and lining up once Lambert is sufficiently slick.

“Hold still,” he orders, and Lambert’s entire body tenses. “Good boy.”

He presses down slowly, _slowly,_ until just the head pops in with a dirty squelching noise. Lambert makes a high, broken sound and tears at the sheets with his nails. Jaskier tenses a little and hovers there, gasping, before he moves again, just a tiny bit. Lambert wails and throws his head back, tension radiating from his entire body as he fights to hold still like Jaskier told him to.

“Being so good, Lambert,” Jaskier breathes, eyes rolling at the thick press of the Witcher’s cock inside him. “ _Feel_ so fucking good. Want to keep you here forever, keep you hard so I can ride you whenever I want. Really make you into a toy.”

Lambert wails again, thrashing as much as he can without moving his hips, and Jaskier whimpers at the way his cock flexes inside him.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Just – _oh,_ yes.” He sinks down to the base, finally, ass pressed against Lambert’s hips, and they both groan, Lambert’s half-growl.

“Jaskier,” Lambert pleads. Jaskier sucks in a breath and shakes his head.

“Patience,” he says, and Lambert whines, but doesn’t disobey, just throws his head back again.

There’s a knock on the door that startles them both. Jaskier clenches down on Lambert’s cock and Lambert whimpers, cock throbbing against the pressure. Jaskier takes another deep breath.

“Come in,” he says, and though he sounds casual, he’s _not._ There’s fire in his blood and caution on his mind, eyes fixed to where Lambert has tilted his head up to look at him, eyes wide.

Geralt steps into the room, and Lambert seems to relax a little. Jaskier gives him a little roll of his hips in reward.

“We’re making dinner,” Geralt says, looking straight at Jaskier. He makes no indication that Lambert is there, doesn’t acknowledge that Jaskier is plainly sitting on his cock right now, and Jaskier feels a thrill go through him. From the broken sound Lambert makes, he felt it, too. “Stew. We’ve got venison or some beef left. Any preference?”

Jaskier carefully steadies himself before answering, “Beef, use it before it goes bad,” with something almost like boredom in his voice. Lambert whimpers.

“Alright,” Geralt nods. “It should be done in an hour or two.”

“I’ll be down,” Jaskier says, joining the other Witcher in not acknowledging Lambert. He gets to feel the way Lambert’s cock throbs inside him, and the little, desperate shift of his hips, and a smirk spreads across his face.

Geralt, the bastard, _winks._ And then he’s gone.

“Fuck, little wolf,” Jaskier gasps as soon as the door is shut behind him. “You liked that, didn’t you? Not even being acknowledged. Like _furniture._ Just a toy for me to use.”

Lambert keens. “Please, Jaskier, _please,_ want to make you feel good, _use me._ ”

“Your wish is my command,” Jaskier says, and starts to move. “Fuck me, Lambert.”

The Witcher is able to match his rhythm unerringly – more things the mutations gave him that are frankly unfair, but Jaskier isn’t complaining right now. It feels fucking incredible, each time their hips meet sending a shock up his spine, making his cock twitch and drool all over their stomachs. After a moment of just feeling it, focusing on the stretch of Lambert’s cock and how fucking full he is, Jaskier shifts, tilting his hips until the next thrust strikes his prostate and he _shouts._

“Fuck, _fuck,_ Lambert, _yes,_ just like that,” he pants, moving faster. Lambert growls and matches him still, hands shifting from the sheets to Jaskier’s thighs again. His grip is just as bruising now as it was earlier, but Jaskier doesn’t _care,_ entirely lost to the whitewash of pleasure each time the head of Lambert’s cock grinds over his prostate. “Yes, yes, _yes._ ”

He considers his earlier rambling, how he said he might wait to let Lambert come until Jaskier can fuck him, but decides he doesn’t want to wait. On the next pull up, he fumbles a hand between them and unsnaps the bit around Lambert’s cock and balls, and Lambert grunts, eyes wide and a little panicked.

“Jaskier, Jaskier, _close,_ ” he gasps and Jaskier laughs. “Gonna – _fuck._ ”

“I know,” he says. “Come for me, Lambert. Fill me up so I can make you eat it out of me.”

Lambert’s eyes squeeze shut and he whines, long and low, thrusting speeding up. Jaskier groans and pushes down then holds still, letting Lambert hammer up into him, the pleasure in his own gut spiraling tighter and tighter with each jolt.

“Fuck, gods, _Lambert,_ you’re gonna take me with you,” Jaskier slurs, eyes rolling when his knees give a little and he slides down, closer, and the next several thrusts nail his prostate dead on. “ _Fuck!_ ”

“ _Jaskier,_ ” Lambert whimpers. “Gonna – feel so fucking good – please – want – ”

“ _Come,_ ” Jaskier orders, word cracked and slurred around the little whimpers tumbling out of him as Lambert somehow fucks _faster._ “Wanna feel you, Lambert.”

Lambert makes a loud, high sound, comparable to the banshees Jaskier has encountered, and comes. Jaskier can feel the throb of it, the heat as he spills, as it leaks out around his still-rapid thrusts, and whines. His nails dig into the rope around Lambert’s throat and he follows over the edge, whining and painting Lambert’s chest with white. It’s _intense,_ like the second orgasm always is, and it leaves him shaking like a fawn and gulping in air as his heart thunders in his chest.

“Perfect little wolf,” he pants, collapsing down and kissing Lambert, sloppy and uncoordinated. Lambert responds desperately, as if he didn’t just come as well, and Jaskier can’t help but grin dopily into their mess of a kiss. He rolls his hips, shuddering at the aftershock it sends through him. “Such a good boy.”

“Want,” Lambert gasps. “Want – you said – ”

“What did I say, little wolf?”

“Make me – make you eat myself out of you,” Lambert repeats, eyes darting away for a moment.

“You want that?” Jaskier asks, sitting up just enough to let Lambert’s softening cock slip out of him. “Want me to sit on your face again, make a mess of you so you can clean me up?”

“ _Please,_ ” Lambert begs. “Please, I’ll be good, just want _more,_ want you, want to be good.”

“You’re fucking amazing, Lambert,” Jaskier says. “I’ll give you what you want, but first, answer a question for me.”

“Anything,” Lambert blurts, and Jaskier nips gently at his jaw.

“I want to fuck you,” Jaskier starts. “Are you okay to wait while I get hard again?” He’s referring mostly to the ropes, but also to Lambert’s usually thin patience.

Lambert groans, hips jerking. “Yes,” he says. “Yes, _please._ ”

Jaskier kisses him again, with a little more finesse this time. “Wonderful,” he says. “Now.”

It takes a bit of fumbling, but he manages to slide himself up to Lambert’s face without making _too_ much of a mess, and as soon as he’s within reach, Lambert dives in like a starving man. Jaskier gasps and has to grab at his hair, the edge of the bed, to keep his balance.

“Melitele’s sweet perfumed thighs,” he mutters. “ _Lambert,_ fuck.”

His rim is swollen and sensitive, sending pleasure so hot it’s nearly pain rocketing up his spine with each flick of Lambert’s nimble tongue. He can feel the Witcher’s spend leaking out of him, but more than that he can _hear_ it, hear the obscenely slick sound of Lambert’s mouth and the way he’s _swallowing,_ gulping his own spend down like it’s ambrosia, and Jaskier’s thighs shake wildly.

“Lambert, little wolf, _gods,_ ” he whimpers. “So fucking good to me, Melitele’s sake, so fucking _filthy._ ”

Lambert just hums, the vibration enough to make Jaskier whine. “ _Fuck._ ”

He loses words for a while, nothing left in him except the too-much, overstimulating pleasure burning in his blood and the sound and feeling of Lambert’s tongue. Eventually, when Lambert has gotten everything he can from just teasing, he thrusts his tongue _inside_ , deep, long enough to just flicker at Jaskier’s prostate, and Jaskier feels tears start to streak down his face.

Already, his cock is starting to come back to life, each twitch and rush of blood mostly pain but tinged with bright pleasure. He’ll have to wait a bit before he can fuck Lambert, still, but he’ll be hard sooner than anticipated, and his head _spins._ At this rate, they’re going to miss dinner, but Jaskier can hardly be fucked to care, too focused on the intensity of this.

Finally, he can’t take anymore, entire body trembling with too much, _too much,_ and he has to fling himself back, until he’s sitting on Lambert’s waist again, panting like he’s been running. “ _Fuck,_ little wolf, you’re too fucking _good._ ”

Lambert just whines, his own cock half-hard where Jaskier is sort of leaning on it.

“Patience,” Jaskier huffs. “Fucking – need a moment to come down a bit, _shit_.” He ghosts a hand over his erection and whines at the too-sharp feeling, leaning forward and planting that hand on Lambert’s chest instead. He lets himself settle for a few minutes before he opens his eyes and looks over Lambert.

The Witcher is a mess, covered in cum and skin reddened from the ropes and the exertion. His eyes are still wide and blown dark, lips swollen and so red Jaskier would think he was wearing paint if he didn’t know better. There’s cum and spit drying on his cheeks, and bruises starting to form around the ropes on his biceps. Jaskier hadn’t even noticed he was pulling.

“Look at you,” Jaskier murmurs. “Like a fucking wet dream, so godsdamned gorgeous. Should learn to paint so I can put you to canvas, all fucked out and tied up and desperate for it. Gods, I love you so fucking much, little wolf.”

Lambert whimpers, and this time Jaskier sees where his arms strain. He quickly undoes the ties keeping Lambert’s arms trapped, murmurs, “Go on,” and lets Lambert drag him down into a sticky, bitter kiss, arms viciously tight around Jaskier’s shoulders. The kiss goes on for a while, deep and searching and soft and chaste in turns. Jaskier lets himself melt into it, allowing his body to relax, to let go of the boiling pleasure for a bit so he can return more able to handle it.

“Jaskier,” Lambert whispers, right into his mouth. “Love you, love you, want you.”

“I know, love,” Jaskier murmurs, licking at some of the mess on Lambert’s cheeks. “I know, I’ve got you. Just a bit more patience, hm? Then I’ll make you come on my cock.”

Lambert gasps and arches closer, grip on Jaskier’s shoulders tightening again where it had started to go loose. “ _Please._ ”

“Promise,” Jaskier says, kissing Lambert’s nose. “Just need a little bit more time.”

“Yeah,” Lambert mumbles. “Alright.”

“Good boy,” Jaskier praises, because Lambert deserves to hear it. “So good for me, doing everything I ask, waiting for me.”

Lambert hums and drops his head back, arms going mostly slack as well, and Jaskier chuckles, dropping a trail of light kisses over his chin, along his throat. He bites, too, soft little nips that make Lambert whimper and shift toward him.

Slowly, he moves down, licking up some of the mess on Lambert’s chest, mostly just making even more of one with his saliva, leaving teeth marks and little red spots from where he sucks at the skin. Lambert writhes as much as he can, still bound and trapped under Jaskier’s weight, and Jaskier smiles against his ribs.

“Look so good like this, all tied up,” Jaskier murmurs. “Always do, look so good in rope I just want to keep you wrapped in it forever.”

Lambert gasps and arches up, toward Jaskier’s mouth, and Jaskier’s smile widens. He nips at Lambert’s ribs one last time, then sits up. “I think I’m nearly recovered,” he says, stroking his cock slowly. The touch is still shocky, he’s still sensitive, but it’s not painful now, just intense. “Still want me to fuck you, love?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Lambert hisses. “Yes, please, Jaskier, want you.”

“Good.” Jaskier leans down to drop a single, chaste kiss on Lambert’s forehead, then climbs off of him. He quickly undoes the ties keeping Lambert’s knees bent, then situates himself between the Witcher’s still-spread thighs. Lambert cants his hips up, making a soft, pleading noise.

“Just a tiny bit more patience, little wolf,” Jaskier chuckles. He looks around for the oil and finally finds it partially under Lambert’s hip. The toy is still inside him, his rim pink and grasping around it, and Jaskier hums as he pushes and pulls at it, just a little.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Lambert whines. “More, more, want _you._ ”

Jaskier hums. “Why not both?” he asks, as casual as he can, and Lambert makes a choked off, shocked noise. Jaskier looks up at him and finds the Witcher staring down, wide-eyed, lip caught between his teeth. The little flash of sharp canine makes Jaskier’s skin feel too tight.

“You – really?” he asks quietly.

“Do you want that?” Jaskier asks in turn. “Want to take me and the toy?”

Lambert groans and bites his lip again, hard enough to draw blood. Jaskier tracks the tiny bead as it slowly slips down the Witcher’s chin. “ _Yes,_ ” he finally whimpers. “Yes, please.”

“Good boy.” Jaskier leans over and presses a kiss to the leaking head of Lambert’s cock, grinning when Lambert makes a soft, choked noise at the touch. He uncorks the bottle of oil and pours some over his fingers, rubbing a little around the rim of Lambert’s hole before gently pulling the toy out. Lambert whimpers but doesn’t complain, just tips his hips up and drops his knees to the side a little, giving Jaskier more room. “Very good.”

Jaskier replaces the toy with two slick fingers. They sink in easily, Lambert’s hole practically sucking them in, and he grunts. “Fuck, so needy,” he murmurs.

Lambert just makes an affirming sound, somewhere between a whimper and a snarl. Jaskier grins and starts to move his fingers.

He goes slow at first, just spreading the oil around, before he picks up the pace at Lambert’s begging insistence. The only touches to the Witcher’s prostate are incidental, glancing little brushes that make Lambert shudder and clench around his knuckles with loud whines.

“ _More,_ ” Lambert eventually pleads, jaw tense and stomach tenser. Jaskier gives it to him immediately, more than a little impatient himself; the third finger slides in with hardly any resistance. Jaskier fumbles with the oil for a second so he can pour a little more of it directly inside Lambert, shivering at the broken sound he makes at the feeling, then moves. Faster and harder, now, spreading his fingers wide with each push, mostly to stretch Lambert but also to hear him sob desperately at the feeling.

“Take my fingers so well, little wolf,” Jaskier murmurs. “Going to take my cock this well? That toy, too?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Lambert nearly shouts the word, hips jerking. “I will, I will, _please._ ”

“Of course you will,” Jaskier says, a fourth finger threatening at Lambert’s swollen rim. “Always so good for me, taking anything I give you and loving it. _Perfect,_ Lambert.”

Lambert just whimpers and throws his head back, riding Jaskier’s fingers hard enough now that when Jaskier goes to tease that fourth finger again, it just sinks straight in.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, and spreads his fingers out. Lambert groans but doesn’t stop moving, just keeps fucking himself down on Jaskier’s fingers. “One of these days I’ll get my fist into you, little wolf, really make you cry.”

The Witcher’s cock twitches and throbs so violently that for a moment Jaskier think’s he’s going to come, just like that, from four fingers in his ass and the promising threat of a fist. But he doesn’t. Jaskier pets over his thigh.

“Good boy,” he praises. “I think you’re ready, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I’m ready, _please_ fuck me,” Lambert pants, eyes half-lidded and hazy. Jaskier takes his hand away, pouring out more oil and covering his cock as well as the toy.

“No need to bed,” Jaskier teases. “But I can’t deny how fucking tempting you sound when you do it. Makes me want to ruin you, Lambert, break you down til all you can feel is pleasure and _me._ ”

“I’d let you,” Lambert chokes out, eyes squeezes shut and fists so tight in the sheets they’re tearing. Jaskier feels kind of like he’s been punched.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he mutters, and lines his cock up with Lambert’s hole. “Fuck.”

The first thrust is easy, a smooth slide, and Lambert just clenches around him with a low, desperate sound. Jaskier waits a moment, the space of a heartbeat, and then moves. Short, sharp thrusts at first and then longer ones, until Lambert is back to whining and squirming, cock throbbing visibly against his belly as it bounces with each movement.

He fucks Lambert like that until the Witcher starts to beg again, and then he presses the still-slick head of the toy to Lambert’s rim. Lambert stills and shudders, the movement rippling through him. Jaskier groans at the feeling.

“Want more?” he asks, knowing full well what the answer is.

“ _Please,_ yes, Jaskier, need more.”

“Alright.” His fingers are still decently slick, too, so he carefully wedges one fingertip against Lambert’s rim, worming it between the clench of muscle and his own cock. It’s an odd sensation, but one that makes his stomach twist and drop pleasantly. Lambert gasps and whimpers out a soft, “ _More,_ ” so he figures the feeling is mutual. It’s just that, for a bit, his cock seated inside Lambert while he slowly moves one finger in and out.

Finally, after several minutes, Lambert calms and relaxes enough for a second finger. Jaskier goes slow, watching Lambert’s face and body language carefully, but gets nothing more than wanton enthusiasm from either. Another handful of minutes with two fingers, and he feels certain that Lambert can easily take the toy alongside his cock.

“Ready?” he asks, just to double check.

Words seem to have abandoned Lambert, but he gives Jaskier a thumbs up and a soft sound that _almost_ sounds like a yes. Jaskier takes it at face value and carefully starts to push the toy inside, ignoring the way heat spreads up his spine at the feeling of it. The tapered head makes it a relatively easy endeavor, and it’s barely a minute later that he has the toy inside next to his cock, both pushed as deep as possible.

Lambert’s back to sobbing, pulling in great, wheezing breaths, but when Jaskier pauses there’s no safeword or snapping that comes. Instead, Lambert just sobs out a broken, “ _Please,_ ” that tells him everything he needs to know.

He moves.

They both shout.

“Jaskier _, fuck,_ please _,_ faster.” Lambert groans it at the same time that Jaskier half-snarls, “ _Melitele’s tits,_ Lambert, you feel so fucking _good._ ”

It’s a little awkward, trying to move while holding the toy where it is, but _awkward_ isn’t going to stop him. Lambert looks like he’s seeing the gods, mouth wide open and eyes squeezed shut, cock drooling and twitching wildly. Jaskier would deal with a lot more than a slightly awkward position to keep that look on his Witcher’s face.

“Want you to come,” he pants after he’s gotten over the initial shock of pleasure. “Want to see you come like this, Lambert, watch you make a mess of the ropes and your belly. Feel you clench down on me and the toy.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Lambert wails. “Jaskier, _Jaskier,_ please.”

“Not going anywhere,” Jaskier promises. “Going to fuck you until you come, little wolf.”

“Gonna – _close,_ ” Lambert spits, arching his back and shoving his hips down, meeting Jaskier’s thrusts with force. “ _Jaskier._ ”

Jaskier just moves faster, starting to push and pull at the toy a little, too, and Lambert makes a high, broken sound. His hips lose all of their rhythm, and he’s clenching down so tight it’s near painful, but Jaskier doesn’t stop, just grits his teeth and keeps going.

“ _Jask – Jaskier,_ fuck!” Lambert practically screams it, and then he’s coming, legs kicking as he twists. Jaskier lets go of the toy to grab onto the Witcher’s hips, laughing breathlessly.

“Yeah, just like that, _fuck,_ little wolf, you feel so fucking good,” he babbles, thrusts gone short and deep, almost more of a grind as Lambert whines and finally starts to calm. “ _Gods._ Want to fill you up.”

“ _Plea –_ fuck – _please,_ ” Lambert stammers, still twitching, gaze soft and hazy.

“I will,” Jaskier pants, feeling it rise in him, stomach twisting tighter and tighter with each sharp movement. “ _Fuck,_ Lambert.”

It doesn’t take long; between his sensitivity and the absolutely starstruck look on Lambert’s face, Jaskier tumbles over the edge almost _embarrassingly_ quickly.

“Fuck, _fuck,_ Lambert!”

The world goes white for a long, breathless moment, and then he crashes back into his body, shuddering with aftershocks. He’s leaning over Lambert’s chest, panting, and he drops a kiss to where he knows the Witcher’s pulse is strongest. Lambert hums and pets through his hair.

“Feeling okay?” Jaskier finally manages to ask.

“Mm. Better,” Lambert mumbles. “Think I need the ropes off, though.”

“Yeah, of course.” Jaskier levers himself up, pulling his cock and the toy gently out of Lambert’s hole. He doesn’t let himself focus on the way his cum starts to leak out, instead tossing the toy to the side to be cleaned later and setting to unwrapping the rope from Lambert’s legs.

He goes in reverse order from how he tied the Witcher; the restraints are released first, and then he unwraps the decorative work on his legs, his arms, and finally his chest. Lambert moves where he’s directed as easily now as he did at the beginning, though with a bit more lethargy. Jaskier can’t resist leaning in and kissing the red marks the rope has left, lingering over where it’s turned into light bruises. Lambert just sighs and melts into the soft touches.

“There,” Jaskier says quietly, once the ropes are all off and tossed to the end of the bed. He’ll deal with putting them away later; for now, his focus is on Lambert. “Lay down on your belly,” he says, and climbs off the bed to grab another, different bottle of oil. This one is scented like lavender, and is a little thinner.

Lambert has moved so his head is on the correct side of the bed, but is laying on his stomach like Jaskier asked. Jaskier climbs up onto the bed at his feet and pours some oil into his palm letting it warm before he picks up Lambert’s foot and starts to massage.

“ _Oh,_ ” Lambert mumbles. “Mm. Spoiling me.”

“You deserve to be spoiled,” Jaskier says, and continues the massage. He goes from Lambert’s foot to his calf and then up his thigh, then moves back down to start again at the other foot. From there he keeps moving up, paying attention to every inch of Lambert’s body; his ass, his back, his ribs, his shoulders. Arms, from bicep to his hands.

And then he turns Lambert over with gentle touches and soft kisses, and does it all again along his front.

By the time he’s finished, rubbing a little excess oil into the skin of Lambert’s throat, the Witcher is near unconscious, a dopey smile on his face.

“Feel good, little wolf?” Jaskier asks softly, and Lambert just makes a quiet, assenting sound, more of a purr than anything. “Good.”

They need food soon, water, too. But for now, Jaskier just curls up to Lambert’s side, dropping random, chaste kisses over his face and neck, and lets the Witcher doze. He deserves it.

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like every time i write porn now, i'm obligated to try and one-up great vices in some way.
> 
> i also feel like no one is terribly upset by that.


End file.
